Born, Madly (Darkly, Madly 2)

“Ask,” I say.

The cool steel trembles against my forehead. Foster smiles. “Fuck you.” His finger twitches, he pulls the trigger, and the slide jams home with a resounding click. Foster’s eyes widen. He tries to pull the trigger again, and I pry the gun away.

I show him the bullet in my hand. “No one ever passes their test,” I say as I chamber the bullet, this time without first dropping it into my hand. “Sorry. That’s not right. London passed hers.”

“Is that why you left her alive?”

I check the gun, making sure it’s ready, and get to my feet. “You’re the detective,” I say, pointing the weapon at him. “Figure it out.”

“Wait!” Foster holds up his hand, as if he’ll stop the bullet. “You can’t do this…”

I really can. “I don’t like guns. Unimaginative. But our game has inspired me.” I slip my finger around the trigger and take aim.

The passing cars are too far away to hear the gunshot.

14

Nuance

London

The entrance to the hospital is teeming with reporters and news crews. Agent Nelson swears and steers his SUV toward the backside of the building.

“I still say you shouldn’t be here,” he says.

When the announcement aired that Detective Foster was hospitalized early this morning, Nelson and a team of agents showed up at my apartment shortly afterward.

Foster gave a brief statement to the press that cited Grayson Sullivan as his attacker. Authorities are still awaiting DNA analysis from his person to confirm this, but it’s already become an accepted truth by the media. And when Foster publicly stated that he spotted Grayson inside my building, chaos ensued. The alarms went off across the city, the nationwide manhunt now zeroing in on Bangor.

A protective detail was assigned to me immediately. I underwent questioning from the FBI, touting repeatedly that I had not had any interaction with the escaped convict. Once I was cleared, I had to contact my lawyer to prevent the FBI from searching my office floor. Allen Young won’t prevail—all he can do is postpone the search. Until the search warrant is presented, he’s working to get my patient files protected.

I had to persistently rant to leave my own home in order to visit Foster in the hospital.

I haven’t yet processed what this means, or if it’s a part of Grayson’s overall scheme.

I’ll handle Foster.

Grayson’s words before he left me, but this level of impulsiveness is extremely out of character for him. I cannot believe that, after last night, Grayson intended for this madness to happen. Rather, we allowed Foster to interfere, and this is the fallout from our colossal neglect.

Foster has been a thorn in my side since before the trial. And now his amateur detecting and brash, tactless behavior for the media has turned my life into a circus once again.

Agent Nelson makes a call to another agent already inside the ER unit, and then swivels to address me. “Ten minutes. Then I have to get you out of here.”

Stunned, I stare back at him. “Am I a suspect?”

His features crease in confusion. “No,” he says hesitantly.

“Am I under arrest?” I press.

“Of course not. London—”

“Then I’m a free citizen, agent. And while I appreciate everything the FBI has done to protect me, quite frankly, I’m tired of taking orders. I’m going to speak to Foster now.”

Nelson drives a hand through his hair, releasing a terse breath. “I haven’t protected you.” He glances away, and I open my mouth to reassure him, but he continues. “I was wrong to remove your detail. Foster is a disgrace, but he was there when I wasn’t. You could’ve been harmed…or worse. Sullivan was inside your building while you were there.” He looks at me then. “It frightens me…what his motive was. What could’ve happened.”

I hold his gaze, stricken at how believable his guilt appears. “If Sullivan wanted me dead, then he would’ve killed me before.”

His stare intensifies. “There are things worse than death.”